He’d never felt such a violent need before in his life. He’d forced himself to remain on his bed, not blinking or moving until her dainty heel disappeared behind the slamming of his chamber door. Once he was sure she was gone, he sailed from his bed and glowered, wanting nothing more than to rip the door off its hinges, find her, drag her back here, and demand that she love him back. He blinked, startled by the thought. Love. He felt it. He palmed his chest. The violence, the urgency, the softness, the need... what the poems said, he felt it all—for a legger. His legger. “Bloody damn, barracuda,” he snarled, but all the fire was gone now as he dropped back onto his bed. Talia had told him once that she couldn’t help how she felt, but that if she could have, she’d have given her heart and soul to him. He’d never been able to understand how she could find one of them so alluring, so intriguing that she would willingly give up her life in Seren for Hook. And now he only wished she were here so that he could tell her thank you, because without her sacrifice, there would be no Nimue.
